The Vampire Chronicles
by TheLifeofaGhost
Summary: Loosely inspired by "Dracula". The Chronicles follow Caroline Forbes, daughter of the late William Forbes, as she delves deep into the dark dealings of her father's past and slowly uncovers the secrets behind the Faction. Includes Caroline and Elijah as well. {set in 1890s}
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Vampire Chronicles

**Category:** AU

**Main Characters:** Caroline, Damon, Elijah, Katerina, Niklaus &amp; Stefan

**Genre:** Romance/Supernatural

**Prompt:** "Evil is always possible. And goodness is eternally difficult."

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Language, Violence, and Sexual Situations

**Note:** Loosely inspired by the series "Dracula".

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**_i. New Orleans 1890_**

He hummed quietly to himself, eyes skimming over her form in silent appreciation. There she stood, in the center of the Vieux Carré, examining an assortment of floral arrangements with a careful eye. She looked _breathtaking_, wearing a cream-yellow shirtwaist and dark wool tweed tulip bell skirt of which was belted at the waist. Her hair, which usually smelt of lavender, was pinned up with only a few wisps of blond locks framing her face.

As if she could feel the intensity of his gaze, her eyes flickered up from the arrangement of Louisiana Iris. He knew she would not see him from his perch, on top the balcony of the Abattoir. But—for a moment, he caught a glimpse of her strikingly blue eyes. Purer than any sea he had sailed in all his years of being.

A part of him savored that purity. Believed that it was uniquely the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. It was something that brought _light_ into his decrepit world. But—another part of him, a much _darker_ part of him has dreamt about finally putting an end to this torture. Putting an end to it all—the distance, his growing desire, his _hunger_.

She sparked something within in that he hadn't felt in over a century. Not since Tatia, who she rivaled in every sense of the word. In beauty—

"Now, now Elijah," the low voice called out to him from behind. He peered over his shoulder, eyeing the man who stood in the archway watching him scrupulously. "What seems to have earned such enraptured attention?"

Elijah suppressed the urge to usher his brother's fancies elsewhere; and eyed him uncaringly as the man slinked away from the door and toward him until he himself could see what had caught Elijah's notice.

His eyes glided across the sea of people and faces, noting that neither man nor child had earned the consideration of Elijah Mikaelson's ever attentive eye. No, he would much rather delight in the beauty there was to be offered in the world—but would never _truly_ allow himself to enjoy it. No, what had caught his eye had to be something delicate, _pure_.

A sly grin slithered onto his face as the snake once had into the garden. There _she _was.

"Who is she?"

Elijah cleared his throat, leaning an elbow along the banister of the balcony and blocking his brother's observation of the woman in question. "_She_ is daughter of William Forbes."

He allowed for the information to sink in as the man took a step back, face contorting in thought.

"Forbes? William Forbes—why does the name sound familiar?" He drawled out in question, the name rolling off his tongue like a long forgotten poison.

Elijah sighed, standing to his full height and approaching his brother until they stood toe-to-toe. "I believe he was the head of the human faction until you had Marcellus kill him, Niklaus."

That gave his brother pause. Niklaus' gaze wavered a moment, eyeing the beautiful blonde and noting darkly that the flowers might have been for her father. If he still _felt_, if he still had a heart—he might have been able to empathize with the girl. So young, to have lost her father.

But his father had been a bastard. She was fortunate he had saved her from any future comparable to the one he had experienced.

If he recalled correctly, they had laid Mr. Forbes to rest a fortnight ago. He thought a moment, "Is she aware of her father's dealings?"

Elijah knew that voice. The one riddled with curiosity masked as disinterest. "No. She has been away, studying abroad."

"England?" Niklaus interjected, a familiar far off look appearing in the corners of his eyes as he spoke.

"Paris." His elder brother corrected, though he wished the man would forget the matter. Forget _her_.

The wolfish grin returned as he spoke up once more with vigor, "Très intéressant."

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_**ii. Lafayette Cemetery, New Orleans 1890**_

There was a slight chill in the air that morning, one that danced down her spine like the eyes of a lover. She had felt the overwhelming sensation that she was being watched. But when she turned to look, no one had been there. As always.

And now she found herself at father's grave, kneeling before it and resting a bouquet of iris on the soft mound where his head should lay.

"Morning, father," the young woman spoke up as brightly as one could muster, considering the circumstances. She brought a delicately gloved hand to the marble slab, fingers ghosting along his name. "I miss you."

She whispered, lips trembling as a stray tear ran along the curve of her pale cheek.

"I wish you were here," She added softly, slowly pulling her arm back to her side. Her father had been the _only_ person to truly understand her. Where her mother failed, he excelled. And now she never felt more alone, since her return; even amongst the women her mother associated.

"I hope that I might be an apt substitute?" A voice stated gently, one that sent a flood of emotions throughout her. Ranging from disbelief to embarrassment to respite.

She stood up slowly, eyes widening momentarily as she took him in. More handsome than she recalled, in his dark trousers and gray waistcoat. His deep blue eyes stared into hers with a passion that was all too familiar.

"Damon." The woman breathed out, the corner of her lip curving skyward as he took steps toward her; closing the distance and wrapping his arms around her. She allowed herself to be pulled in to his warm embrace.

"_Caroline_." The dark-haired man sighed into her hair, allowing himself a moment to appreciate the way her body molded perfectly into his.

He had been away from New Orleans—away from home—for far too long.

"When did you get back?" She questioned, pulling away from him enough to get a good look at him. It had been over three years since she had laid eyes on Damon Salvatore.

"Last night," Damon admitted, offering her a sheepish grin before adding thoughtfully, "I would have called on you, but…I believe Stefan had you otherwise preoccupied."

The name of her fiancé, the name of his brother, leaving his tongue sent a rush of cold that otherwise changed the mood of their reunion. It was not too long ago that Damon had made his interests known, but she had been too young, and too in love with someone else to accept his proposal.

She exhaled, and he dropped his arms back at his side. He glanced passed her to William's grave marker, bowing his head, "I am sorry for your loss."

There was nothing more he could say. It was not if his words could ever bring back the most important man in a woman's life. Aside from her husband.

Caroline simply offered him a smile in reply as her eyes drifted to the gated entrance, where her chauffeur awaited her. She shifted her stare back to her unexpected companion, before speaking, "I must be off, but—"

"I know." The Salvatore smiled sadly.

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**Thank you for reading, please leave a review. It would be much appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** the vampire chronicles

**Category:** AU

**Main Characters:** Caroline, Damon, Elijah, Katerina, Niklaus &amp; Stefan

**Genre:** Romance/Supernatural

**Prompt:** "Evil is always possible. And goodness is eternally difficult."

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Language, Violence, and Sexual Situations

**Note:** Loosely inspired by the series "Dracula". There are no doppelgangers.

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**_iii. The Palace Royale, New Orleans 1890_**

They sat at a round table in the ballroom, which had been transformed to meet the needs of the fencing tournament. Guests had been flittering in since the stroke of noon, sharing greetings and indulging in cordials.

"Aw, _poor _Mister Salvatore." Caroline's companion for the evening crooned as she eyed the elder man sitting at a table with only his father to keep him company. "He looks _positively_ miserably."

There was the familiar bite in her words, laced with mockery, whenever Katerina addressed a man she found unworthy of her companion's attentions. Damon was simply one of the countless men that had hoped to gain the blonde's affections.

"_Katerina_." Caroline exclaimed, unable to stifle the soft laugh that threatened to escape her lips.

"_What_?" The doe-eyed brunette shrugged innocently. "I meant it only in jest."

"Well, do try and be nice," She replied in turn, although the grin tugging at her lips spoke otherwise of the gravity of her words.

"Speaking of Salvatore…" Katerina trailed off, nodding her chin toward something behind the blond. There was a knowing glint in her eye as she caught the movement of her companion's hand, as it clutched the three canary yellow ribbons that would designate to whom she would be backing in the tournament. "And _who_ is that?"

Caroline turned in her seat, eyes catching sight of her champion. Stefan Salvatore stood at the edge of the stage where a duel was already in progress. Her eyes perused his form, appreciating the way the white fencing jacket brought out his masculine build. Then her gaze slid to whom Katerina been referring. She would admit—the mysterious man was_ very_ handsome. His face, that of which she imagined spoke of noble birth, light-brown hair curled that contrasted with his pearl-white skin.

"Excuse me a moment." She spoke up, nodding in departure to not only her companion, who offered a sly grin, but her mother who had chosen that moment to return to their table as well.

"Stefan," She called out in greeting as she approached, averting her gaze from his companion and giving the man she was to spend the rest of her life with her full attention. "There is _my_ champion."

The man turned at the sound of her voice, pointing the tip of his foil down and away from her. Caroline smiled up at him, a prideful gleam in her eye.

"Then I shall have the pleasure of wearing your colors?" Stefan inquired, though from the lazy smile tugging at his lips he already knew her answer. Her eyes drifted passed him to where his companion watched on coolly, his gaze intensifying as their eyes meet for the first time. As if remembering they were not alone, Stefan shifted, introducing his new friend.

"Nik, this is the woman I was telling you about. My fiancée, Caroline Forbes."

Stefan brought a hand to the small of her back, guiding her forward so that she stood face-to-face with the man who had caught Katerina's notice. Her gaze fell to his upper-arm, noting that it was bare. He wore no one's colors—which either meant he was positively dreadful or he had no one here to support his endeavor in the tournament. Both were too despondent a thought.

"Niklaus Mikaelson." The man proclaimed, voice thick with an accent, distinguishably English.

Caroline's eyes flickered from his bare arm, to his angelic face. "Niklaus, would you do me the honor?"

At her question, she raised a hand, indicating the long, slender ribbons she held between her fingers. His gaze was fixated on the delicate pieces of silk before finding his voice. "As long as your fiancé does not take offence."

Stefan chuckled at the notion. He was not one to grow envious of another man, not when he already had the heart of the woman he loved.

"As you can see, my fiancé has already earned himself colors." The woman referred to the two deep red ribbons tied securely around his arm. "I believe those belong to the lovely Ms. Branson."

The Salvatore grinned sheepishly, offering his arm and watching as her fingers danced across his forearm. She tied a single ribbon between Alexia's before turning her attention to Niklaus.

The instant her digits brushed against his arm she felt an unfamiliar sensation in the pit of her stomach. She avoided his stare, and nimbly worked at tying her final two ribbons around his upper-arm. The ripple of muscle beneath his white fencing jacket was enough to alert her to his capabilities.

"I do hope my colors advance beyond the semifinals." Caroline said playfully, eyeing both men with a wide grin before stepping toward Stefan and placing a chaste kiss along the line of his jaw for luck.

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**_iv. New Orleans 1890_**

Watching Niklaus move with the foil in his hand was only comparable to the expertise of a dancer. His movements were swift. Precise. And he had managed to make it to the finals, sporting her canary yellow ribbons with the upmost respect and humility. It was an amazing sight. It truly was. And it had earned the notice of her friend.

"He is simply _marvelous_." Katerina said as she watched on in awe. The man's opponent was the Lord Donovan's son, Matthew—of whom was a longtime family friend of the Petrova.

"Yes, he is quite spectacular." Caroline agreed, following the rhythm of his movements with surprising ease. Which in itself was strange as she did not usually enjoy watching men fight, no matter how trifle.

"_Touché_." The announcer's voice rang out throughout the room, acknowledging the hit made against Matthew by Niklaus. It was the third, and final hit; marking the end of their skirmish. Katerina clapped as a chorus of cheers rang out.

"Poor Matthew." Mrs. Forbes interjected, although there was an obvious interest in her eye at the champion for the tournament. "It seems you chose a prime competitor, Caroline."

There was an implication in her mother's voice that was all too familiar. She did not delight in the idea of her daughter marrying below her station, and Stefan was anything if not ordinary. "He is a friend of Stefan. I felt it unbecoming to allow him to enter into this tournament without support."

In truth, she had simply wanted to make Stefan happy. And nothing would have made him happier than to have the support of his fiancée—by extension Niklaus, who appeared to have blossomed a friendship with Stefan, earned a bit of her backing as well. Her father had always said a wife's duty is to her husband. In offering her colors, she had extended her friendship to the man.

"Where is that fiancé of yours?" Her mother interjected, in her honeyed tone. Caroline searched the sea of faces among the competitors, noting for the first time that the Salvatore was not amongst them. He had not made it to the finals, having been defeated in the third round by Matthew.

"I believe I saw his father pull him aside." Katerina offered, although the man approaching their table had earned further attention from her.

"Miss Forbes." Niklaus' intoxicating voice rang in her ears as he came to stand before them. He bowed his head, greeting her mother and companion with equal respect before continuing. "I must say, I believe your colors gave me the luck I needed to be victorious today."

A soft warmth rushed to her cheeks at his words. "You are too generous."

The gentle clearing of a throat drew her attention. Katerina, ever so subtle.

"Mr. Mikaelson, I would like to introduce you to my longtime companion—"

"Katerina." The brunette interjected prideful of her namesake. "Katerina Petrova."

She extended a gloved hand out to him, of which he accepted; placing a kiss along the ridge of her knuckles as he took her in. He would admit, she was beautiful. In a way that reminded him of Tatia. Her long, dark curls were piled high on top her head in an elegant do, and her olive skin was free of any imperfection. Her eyes, dark brown stared back into his own with a glimmer in them that was usual of the women he bedded. _Hungry_ with desire.

He let go of her hand, returning his eye to the woman that held his interest from the moment she had caught Elijah's notice. At first he had simply planned on taking her, feeding from her and leaving her corpse for his brother to find. It was not becoming of an Original to find interests in the vermin plagued with mortality outside of sex and feeding. However, he found that he was more than willing to make the acceptation for the lovely little dove.

"I hope you do not mind if I keep these," He spoke up once more, fingering the delicate ribbons adorning his arm. "As a token of our shared endeavor."

"Not at all." Caroline breathed, smiling at his kind words. The expression that crossed his handsome face was almost devilish, and the glint in his eye spoke of something darker. But in that moment all the woman could do was be gracious, for he had earned the title of her champion.

"Until we meet again."

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**Thank you for reading! Please leave a review as they are always appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** the vampire chronicles

**Category:** AU

**Main Characters:** Caroline, Damon, Elijah, Katerina, Niklaus &amp; Stefan

**Genre:** Romance/Supernatural

**Prompt:** "Evil is always possible. And goodness is eternally difficult."

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Language, Violence, and Sexual Situations

**Note:** Loosely inspired by the series "Dracula".

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_**v. Forbes Mansion, New Orleans 1890**_

"Mikaelson?" The blonde asked doubtfully at her companion's matter-of-fact assessment of the man. "You must be _joking_."

Katerina had made it a point, since their return to the estate, to speak on the man's undeniable looks of interest. It was not every day that someone of such prestige (as they had come to learn) took interest in a woman that was as of yet spoken for so publicly.

"Well, you must have noticed the way he leered at you." The woman interrupted from her seat by the vanity. She must admit, she was jealous of where Niklaus' more than obvious attention had been directed during their introduction. He was by far, a devilish man of exquisite tastes. A more than respectable suitor.

Caroline rolled her eyes, though a faint blush graced her cheeks once more at the memory of the mysterious man. "He was simply being cordial."

The Petrova scoffed, eyeing her companion with mild interest as she brushed through her golden tresses; of which looked as soft as silk to the touch. "He was positively _ferocious_ in combat."

The matter of discussion swiftly changed, sending a pool of warmth down to the pit of her stomach. Niklaus proved to be an exceptional competitor, one that any woman could be prideful of. Aside from that, his dashing good-looks were enough to send any woman into a state of utter longing.

"Stefan is improving greatly." Caroline interjected, hoping to end any and all discussion of the Mikaelson. That, however, only seemed to stir on Katerina to another matter entirely.

"Ah, yes, how is Stefan handling having dear old Damon back?" The brunette grinned evilly. She knew the history her companion shared with the brothers. It had been inevitable that there would be a fight between the two over Caroline's hand, after all both played with their hearts on their sleeves.

"I do not known." Caroline replied honestly, a sigh escaping her lips as she brought the brush down to rest in between her hands in her lap. "We haven't spoken…of Damon, since his departure."

"Are you referring to his _running away_?" Katerina spoke with a haughty air.

That was as much discussion on the elder Salvatore that she was willing to take for one night. "As much as I enjoy your cynicism, could we please talk about something other than your disapproval of Damon?"

"Fine,_ fine_." Her companion submitted, a sly grin gracing her countenance as a thought crossed her mind. "Do you think your fiancé would be capable of arranging a little get-together with Mr. Mikaelson?"

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_**vi. St. Anne's Church, New Orleans 1890**_

He stood at the altar, staring up at the crucifix brandished above him. It was wroth from iron, painted gold and spotlighted with the rays of the warm sun that streamed in from a decorative window above. The approaching footfalls drawing near alerted him that he was no longer alone.

"What is this I hear of you offering the human voice to Giuseppe Salvatore?" His brother's all-too aggravated tone inquired, echoing throughout the high-ceiling church.

Niklaus turned on his heel, locking his hands behind his back as his brother's steps drew him only an arm's length away. "Brother, you must be mistaken. I believe it was Marcellus who offered him the position."

"The Forbes family has held the position for over a decade," Elijah informed him, as if he had not already known. "The position would naturally fall to the Lady Forbes."

"Therein lies the problem," Niklaus interrupted with a knowing look. It was not as if the thought had not crossed his mind, to simply pass down the responsibility to the widow. But if something were to happen to her—well, then he was left with few options. "I rid the Faction of Mr. Forbes, as I saw him _unfit_ for the position."

"He was groomed since childhood—"

"He was also in possession of information that would be deadly to not only me, but you as well Elijah." The man continued, a wistful look in his eye that spoke volumes but gave away nothing.

An expression of curiosity crossed his elder brother's features, one of wonder and distrust. "What are you hiding?"

Niklaus offered only a secret smile. Their identities within the community were secure as long as Marcellus kept up the guise of being King of New Orleans. As long as he handled business Nik was free to do as he pleased without the risk of alerting their enemies. It was how he preferred it.

He placed a hand on Elijah's shoulder, eyeing him squarely with a trivial smirk. "Nothing to worry your head over."

And with that, he slid past his brother pausing mid-step as a thought crossed his mind. It would be entertaining to see the way events unfolded for Elijah when it came to a certain young blonde. One that had piqued his interests as well.

"Caroline is more lovely in person, brother." He tossed over his shoulder before moving on, allowing his words to sink in. It was not every day he could enjoy tormenting his brother is such a way, with such a delicate little thing hanging in the balance. It had not been a threat—although Elijah would see it as one.

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_**vii. Salvatore Estate, New Orleans 1890**_

There was animosity between them. It was strange—as boy they had been inseparable. There was little that could drive a wedge between them. And then _she_ appeared. It was all it took to divide the brothers. It wasn't her intention, not then and certainly not now.

She had chosen Stefan. The sweet, gentle and unmistakably reliable brother. Her only wish to honor and cherish the love they shared. But—before she accepted and he had thought there would be no chance of her rejecting his older, more _experienced_ brother; he had taken another.

"Does she know?" His words struck a chord within him, one that was old and full of regret. The sound dismal to his ears. It had truly been the _one_ mistake he had made during a period in his life that could ruin _everything_ he had worked for. She would never forgive him, of that he was certain. Not for this.

He looked up from the crystal tumbler that had been assisting him in drowning his sorrows. It was not as if he were not happy for his brother's return. In truth he had been missing him desperately. But, his return meant that the only other person who knew of his indiscretion, the only other man that had something to gain through its reveal, had also returned.

The look in his eye was enough to answer Damon's question. His brother shook his head, with range of varying thoughts; each harder to discern than the next.

"You promised you would tell her." He growled out finally, allowing frustration and anger to be his guide. He had stepped aside so that the two could be together, and the only thing he had asked for was that his brother be honest. How could one lie to the woman they claimed to love?

Stefan cast his gaze down, into the bottom of his now empty glass. This is what he had been dreading. How would she be able to look at him again after—she would _despise_ him.

"I know, _I know_." He stammered, running a nervous hand through his mess of hair.

"Either you tell her brother, _or I will_." There was a harsh truth in his voice and Stefan knew that his brother meant it. This had been what he hoped to avoid, praying that his brother would stay gone. And with his return he had brought with him the ax that threatened to be brought down upon his relationship. He should had known that all good things did not truly last.

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**Thank you for reading! What do you think the unforgivable thing Stefan did was? Leave it in a review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** The Vampire Chronicles

**Category:** AU

**Main Characters:** Caroline, Damon, Elijah, Katerina, Niklaus &amp; Stefan

**Genre:** Romance/Supernatural

**Prompt:** "Evil is always possible. And goodness is eternally difficult."

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Language, Violence, and Sexual Situations

**Note:** Loosely inspired by the series "Dracula".

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_**viii. The Abattoir, New Orleans 1890**_

The compound was beyond anything she could have imagined. The help moved about in synchronized motions, each with their own tasks to manage. Niklaus paid them no mind, his attention solely on the women sitting across from him. His new acquaintance had arranged the meeting, hoping to offer him a match in the Petrova.

Unfortunately, the Salvatore did not understand that he had already set his sights on a woman fitting to be Queen of New Orleans. If only her lovely companion had not managed to weasel her way in to his good graces. He would allow himself the entertainment of playing with her. For now.

"It seems Stefan was unable to join us this evening," The Mikaelson noted, bringing a cup of tea to his lips and savoring the rustic taste of something extra, quite familiar to him, as it ran down his throat.

"Yes, well, his father had an urgent matter for him to attend to," Caroline spoke up, hoping that there would be no ill-will between the two men due to a misunderstanding. This small gathering was not simply a means of uniting Katerina with the first man she had deemed worthy in a very long time, but also a chance to strengthen a new found friendship. "He is being groomed to take over the family business."

"I see." Niklaus said with a hint of interest in his voice, though he did not inquire further on what that business might be. "I was pleased to hear that you would be joining us Katerina."

The brunette beauty looked positively radiant at his words, a rush of heat bringing blood to pool at her cheeks. Already, the slight raise of her heartbeat alerted him of her arousal. It had been a while since he delighted in a woman as beautiful as she. And unlike Elijah, when he wanted something he _took_ it.

"Well, I must admit…I hoped to see you again, Mr. Mikaelson," Katerina flirted sweetly, eyes fluttering back at him as she brought the teacup to her lips. She eyed him hungrily—it was a look Caroline was familiar with. Many a man had fallen victim to that striking glance.

A part of her, one she did not understand, was uncomfortable with her companion's blatant flirtations. It was…confusing to say the least. And completely wrong of her to feel.

"Please, call me Klaus." The man said pleasantly. His smile sent yet another rush of strange emotions through the blond woman. There was a gleam in his blue eyes as they swept to her momentarily. It was unexplainable, the effect a simple gaze had on her.

"Well, _Klaus_. Should we be expecting your presence at dear Caroline's engagement party tomorrow night?" Katerina inquired, her intent more than obvious although he played along.

Niklaus looked away from the blond, finding the idea of her with the Salvatore as simply a trifle that would soon be dealt with. "Only if you would allow me the pleasure of escorting you."

Until then, he would play with the Petrova. She reminded him of Tatia—how he had grown disgusted by the woman over the centuries. She had taught him how to love, and then she had broken his heart. And now…now he no longer had one. It was better to deal without. It was how he had survived all these years, after all his running.

Caroline stared between the two as they exchanged words laced with promises to be fulfilled. And for a moment she was envious of her longtime friend, for Niklaus seemed like a capable man. Capable of romancing, a man who could offer the world. Then the moment was gone, and she was reminded of her beloved, Stefan. He could offer his _heart_, the only thing she truly wanted.

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_**ix. The French Quarter 1890**_

"What do you mean he _threatened _you?"

The blonde stared back at him with an expression that spoke volumes to the disdain she held for the man in question. She blamed him for the state that Stefan was in. The man was a wreck. With his engagement party less than twenty four hours away, he had been given an ultimatum. One that would surely _ruin_ everything.

There the man sat across from her, head in his hands at it hung low; looking ever the defeated man. In truth, she saw no ending where Caroline could ever possibly forgive him. A woman's heart is a thing not to be trifled with.

"If I do not confess to Caroline, Damon will tell her," The Salvatore's muffled voice filled the room with heavy frustration. It was as if he were in the middle of a raging battle with only one possible outcome. "Lexi, I _have_ to tell her, but…"

"You are afraid you will lose her." The woman breathed out, voicing what they were both very aware of. She stood from her seat, moving the claim the empty space beside him as he spoke up once more.

"I will _forever_ lose her." Of that, he was sure. His confession would change the way she saw him. The way she saw everything. She would never trust him again. That is a thought that scared him worse than death. He had been an idiot—making such a rash decision. Being so impulsive.

The blond placed a comforting arm around his shoulder, sighing at his obvious distress. "Would you rather your brother tell her?"

She was right. She was always right. It was why he had come to her in the first place with his dilemma. He had already been certain of what he was going to do, he just needed to hear what his best friend had to say on the matter. And she solidified the decision he had already realized was the only right option.

"Either way, she needs to know."

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_**x. Rousseau's 1890**_

He watched them from the bar, as he always did. They were reveling in the bohemian night life—something that he found quite surprising since he'd been following _her_ that night. Around them many eligible officers watched on, ordering them champagne and an assortment of delectable. Suffice to say, the pair were remarkably beautiful and he was not the only one to see that.

Niklaus would mock his need to linger in the shadows—but he could not risk it. Not yet. Not when the mere idea of _finally_ interacting with the woman still held so much sway over him and his _inner_ demon.

So he watched on, eyes following the blonde as she sipped from her flute of champagne. Her delicate laugh rang throughout the establishment, earning a smile from him. It was a strange sound—gentle yet strong and filled with delight.

"Elijah." An all too familiar voice greeted him, and his gaze drifted from the blonde to the man standing before him.

The familiarity was not entirely pleasant. After all, he held very little trust in his brother's favored pawn.

"Marcellus," He exhaled with slight exasperation. There was little _good_ the man's presence meant. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The younger man did not wait to be offered a seat, simply sliding into the empty one in front of his own and blocking Elijah's perfect view of Caroline and her less than appealing companion. His eyes narrowed a moment as he took in the solemn look on Marcellus' face. It alerted him to the severity of whatever issue was about to be addressed.

The man looked around, making sure there were no prying ears before speaking in a low voice, "There are rumors of an uprising in the French Quarter among the witches."

_That_ would serve to be a problem. For Niklaus—and inevitably for him as well. The witches were rebellious, it was in their nature. And if they were allowed to run amuck then the vampires and lycan would do the same. Then there would be blood running in the streets.

"Have you brought this to Niklaus' attention?" Elijah inquired, knowing that the moment his brother's plan began falling through hell would be brought down on them all. Niklaus was not known for his forgiveness.

Marcellus shook his head, a reluctant glimmer in his eyes. If anyone knew how Niklaus could be it was his progeny. "I felt the matter could be handled without his involvement. Discreetly."

"Yes, well, Niklaus was never good with discretion." The elder Mikaelson admitted, though both knew it well enough. "No matter. I shall handle it."

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**Thank you for reading! What do you think is going on with the witches? Leave it in a review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** The Vampire Chronicles

**Category:** AU

**Main Characters:** Caroline, Damon, Elijah, Katerina, Niklaus &amp; Stefan

**Genre:** Romance/Supernatural

**Prompt:** "Evil is always possible. And goodness is eternally difficult."

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Language, Violence, and Sexual Situations

**Note:** Loosely inspired by the series "Dracula". **Flashbacks are indicated with ****

Finally returned to this story after a long hiatus!

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_**xi. Salvatore Estate, New Orleans****_

There she stood. He could not—believe she was _here_; standing on his doorstep. She wore a gentle smile, eyes shining brightly as they stared up at him with such affection. It was as if his prayers had been answered, however…far too late. His mind wandered to the body that had been occupying his bed. A body that he now knew in every sense of the word. One he had clung to whilst he thought the woman he loved was riding off into the sunset with his own brother.

"_Caroline._" He breathed in disbelief, eyes widening at the pure sight of her. With the sun cast behind her, it was as if an angel had appeared right before him. "Wha—what are you doing here?"

The woman stared up at him with an undeniable adoration. Every part of her, every muscle, had been urgently telling her from the moment Damon had requested to see her to go against it. Against him. Because he was not the man she wished to be with.

"I needed to see you," Was her only response, as she took a step forward. There was clear intent in her gaze as she brought her arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace. He felt all the air rush out of his lungs and his heart squeeze in his chest at the incredible sensation of her touch. There was something bittersweet at the turn of events, and his mind raced with all the possible outcomes he might endure once she came to realize what he had done.

Caroline pulled away from him, arms thrown across his shoulders as she stared up into his forest green eyes. Eyes she had grown to love. It had been the hardest decision she had ever had to make—to break the heart of a man she had come to think of as a close confidante. But she could not deny where her heart truly lie.

"It's you." She whispered, fingers massaging the material of his tweed waistcoat. Her expression was determined, more so than he had ever seen.

"I thought—_Damon?_" The Salvatore questioned, earning a shake of the head from Caroline. Her smile fell at the mention of the man whose heart she had broken. There was nothing more she could say on the matter, except she wished she had never had done so.

"It's _always_ been you," Caroline spoke up, that smile returning after a moment of silence. She wound her arms around his neck, the heat of her body rising at their close proximity. "I love _you_, Stefan Salvatore."

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_**xii. The Abattoir, New Orleans 1890**_

His eyes followed her as her gaze swept across the impressive collection of literature in his study. It was not every day he entertained a woman as _powerful_ in the French Quarter as she. She looked up at him with a wistful stare, a knowing smile easing its way on to her face as she eyed the man.

"So what did I do to earn a summons from the noble Elijah?" The young witch inquired with a raised brow. Of course, she was the only member among the New Orleans coven willing to meet privately to discuss matters of the Faction. Her grandmother had once been the voice for the witches within the organization before she was killed by a werewolf. If anything, it endeared her to the cause for regional peace and kept her uneasy.

There was a glint in her dark orbs, and he knew it was for mischief. "It has come to my attention that there has been _unrest_ among your people."

The young woman tilted her head in thought, a sly smile gracing her face as she spoke up, "_Unrest_? Is that what you heard?"

He eyed her as she crossed the room, taking up perch at the edge of his antique desk. There was something alluring in the way she handled herself, the way she moved with such grace, such _power_.

"Ms. Bennett, I hope that you are aware of the repercussions the witches would face if the King were to learn of any issues in the French Quarter," Elijah reminded her matter-of-factually, lips pressed in a thin line as he returned her stare. It was well known that The Bennett family held sway among the New Orleans coven; as they were widely acclaimed as one of the strongest bloodlines around today.

She sighed, taking on a sudden serious demeanor habitual of her grandmother. "Generally, I am opposed to vampires poking into the affairs of witches but the elders are taking the coven down a dangerous road—"

"Dangerous, how?" The man interjected, standing straighter at the deep undertone of fear in her voice.

"Bastianna is corrupting the minds of our youngest, most promising witches." She admitted, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before continuing. "She says she is preparing them for something known as the Sacrifice."

"The Sacrifice?" The name would be enough to send tremors of fear down the spines of any a poor man. However, he had been around long enough—he had seen more than enough from the magical community—to know that a name was not simply just a name.

The Bennett nodded slowly, arms crossing over her chest in a movement of comfort. The notion that those young girls, younger than herself, could do what Bastianna was asking of them, was simply insane.

"It is a ritual that would allow for the coven to draw on the energy of the ancestors." She informed him, standing up from the spot she occupied and moved to stand before him. "But—it requires a sacrifice to be made."

"What kind of sacrifice?" Elijah snapped, so unlike himself in that moment. He needed to squash the matter immediately or risk unleashing the wrath of Niklaus upon innocent people.

"The blood of three innocents." The young woman spoke darkly, eyes failing to meet his as they fell to the floor. "Daughters of the light—"

"For what?" He interrupted once more, mind reeling from what this would mean for the Quarter.

"Honestly, I have not a clue," was her response, a grim expression crossing her face at the thought of murder, "but my grandmother warned me about the darkness that would follow with this type of magic. Said that it corrupted the soul."

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_**xiii. Forbes Mansion 1890 **_

He watched as an unfamiliar carriage made an appearance near the entrance of her home. For a moment, he believed he was going mad—_the woman_—ominous and peculiar. She was of some relation to the girl who had caught his brother's fancies, of that he was sure; for they shared delicate features and golden hair that appeared feather soft to the touch.

The footman assisted her, tugging at her luggage and bringing it to the front door of the manor. The blonde woman appeared less than eager to be there, eyeing the door as if it were the portal to her own personal hell. The man escorting her knocked at the entrance _once, twice_—stepping aside and offering her a curt nod before returning to the carriage and departing.

Niklaus recognized the tall tell signs of apprehension. It was in the murmur of her heart, the slight jump it made as the door opened to reveal whom he had been waiting ever so patiently to catch a glimpse of all morning. There she was, as bright as the sun in her yellow shirtwaist and full skirt. An exclamation of disbelief left her soft lips and with apt swiftness she drew the elder one into a tight embrace.

"Camille," She breathed out; he could hear the undeniable elation in her voice at the woman's appearance. "It is so wonderful to see you!"

"Yes, Cousin," The woman—Camille—responded, mustering some semblance of happiness; however halfhearted the attempt. Either Caroline ignored her blasé attitude or she did not notice, he noted, watching as the Forbes girl pulled away from her cousin long enough to offer an illuminating grin.

"You made it in time to assist in the arrangements for the party tonight." Caroline informed her, reminding him he would be playing host to the Salvatore and his fiancée for the night. "I remember how much you enjoy decorating."

"Truly Caroline nothing would delight me more, still I am feeling a bit fatigued from my travels and hoped to get some rest before the festivities began," Camille said, offering a sigh as evidence of her tiredness.

The smile fell slightly from her face, ushering in a strange and overwhelming sense of sadness in the man as he watched on from the rooftops. He shook his head of any notion of feeling sympathy for the girl—it was unlike him to feel at all. Feel anything outside of lust and anger. And yet, it was hard to ignore the alarming effect such a simple expression had over him. Was this what Elijah felt whenever he looked upon her face?

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tbc

**Thank you for reading! What do you think is going on with the witches? Leave your thoughts in a review!**


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